I have trouble going to the gym. Really. I just can’t get my arse out the door. I enjoy it while I’m there, and who doesn’t love that ache of accomplishment afterwards? But today I remembered the most fun I ever have working out is when I throw on some energetic music and quite literally dance like no one’s watching. I strongly recommend ‘jump in the line’ by da vinci’s notebook to get things, uhh, “shakin”. I’ve only found a portion of it for online audio, but you can find it on pandora, or on their album “the life and times of mike fanning”.
I’m considering beginning a new page to this blog, or a new blog entirely, aimed at encouraging marital sex and giving the wifey a few tricks to keep up her sleeve when “the mood strikes”. Thoughts? Suggestions? Would you read it?
I’ve sat through many a church service and seriously disagreed with what a pastor was preaching, and done nothing. I sat. I did not question during. I did not question after. I just quietly disagreed knowing I would receive stares if I were to get up and ask a question.
But just once, at least, I want to be the person who is capable of standing, asking the necessary question, waiting (standing) for the answer, and thereby deciding whether or not to sit through the rest of the service.
Yes, you guessed it, this post is going to be all about hair. Why? Because I just spent the last hour putting my poor hair into sponge curlers? No no no. That’s not it at all. How very silly of you! If that were the case, my arms would be aching right now and I wouldn’t be posing anything at all!
*rubs aching arms*
Yes, it’s true, I’m currently waiting for the spongey sponge to dry. To dry my hair that is. I’ll probably take lovely pictures and post them on facebook. Those of you who stalk me there as well can see what lovely results there are from endless agony of the sponge.
I have had smooth silky hair that everyone loves to pet my entire life. “Lucky you!” says the random crowd-go-er. “Not at all!” says I. You see, long silky hair is lovely, and FLAT. When my hair was very long I envied those curly haired people with the long frizzy hair that always looked so perfect with just a little bit of no-friz gel. So I decided to use sponge curlers. I ended up with a world of pain when I realized just what sponge curlers do.
With long hair, you spend an hour+ rolling these lil spongey things into your beautiful long STRAIGHT hair while it’s wet. And when you finally finish your arms ache from holding them up for the past x-long. You feel so very accomplished! There is your hair all neatly wrapped up in tight little curls and they’ll be big and lush and beautiful!!! Wrong. You’re expected to sleep in these things. ?! I know. With me, it didn’t happen. So I looked for other alternatives. Perhaps I could blow dry my hair? Don’t try this. Your scalp is exposed at every instance, don’t even remotely try this. It doesn’t even work. And after waiting and waiting and drying and waiting for HOURS, my hair still wasn’t curly. At all. I recall a few awkward bumps. But after all of the blow drying and waiting and waiting and waiting, my hair was now not silky smooth, but also not in lush curls. It looked like a crimping style gone horribly wrong.
So with the help of some friends, I asked for my long beautiful hair to be curled. And they readily pounced on it with curlers and irons and moose and hairspray. Oh God the hairspray! I was followed by a hairspray cloud the rest of the day! And do you know what? The curls fell out within the hour. They didn’t even stay. They said hello and then *thbbt!* left. No “I’ll call you”s. They snuck out in the night like a guilty politician.
Thus I say to your curly-haired folk: cherish your curls!!! You need only a flat iron to make your hair straight, and yet we straight-haired folk go to such great lengths to make our hair curly. . . AND FAIL! How very sad! 😦 Enjoy your curls and the leisure in which you leave your life!! And that never in a number of your days will you ever need to look like this.
I really like Imogen Heap. A lot. She cheers me up, she knows what I’m thinking, feeling, needing to express. I regard her as a pop-acoustic artist similar to how I regard Lady Gaga as a pop-r&b artist and how I regard Whitacre as a composer: they’re doing with the industry what I love to see done. They’re pushing the limits, giving me rich textures and catchy phrases; wringing tears from my eyes and stealing laughter from my soul. They’re breaking the mold. Just like Mozart. Just like Beethoven. Just like the greats that everyone remembers. Now, don’t get me wrong, Imogen Heap has almost definitely been active with drugs, and Lady Gaga’s morals are nothing to really apply functionally, but the music they are creating makes me wish that such high standards were applied throughout the industry. Then all I would be complaining about would be how shitty their morals are and not how much their music sucks. [Though I’ve yet to see dirt on Whitacre, and as such will not denote his name to any extent.]
All of this being said, a friend and I managed to find our ways into a discussion about music similar to one I have with my husband about film from time to time. And the question still remains: is art more communicative when it is a subjective string of emotionally charged phrases (ie. Reliant K talking about teenage angst/apathy/loneliness by describing eating cereal and staring out the window), or is it more communicative when it presents a story with a moral (or at least a theme) to be embraced (ie. Passenger talking about how the only true failure is never trying in things you’ve never done). Continue reading
Do not be afraid to allow wisdom to rip your establishment to shreds. Instead, follow Truth.
I had a dream last night in which I was at a religious organization. In this case, it was represented by my old high school, which is a Christian private school. In a meeting with certain establishment heads, I was accompanied by a man who was to represent wisdom. Stargate fans will relish in the fact that this characterization was personified in Dr. Daniel Jackson. This meeting took place in a large stone temple, which was held together merely by the positioning of the stones, and not by any form of cement holding them together. We were told at the beginning of the meeting that a large beam was being installed and that we could not make too much noise, else the beam would become unstable and knock down the entire building on top of us. It was clear that this was to mean “don’t put forth any ground shaking ideas that would be in the vein of Truth and yet be contrary to the establishment.” Naturally, Wisdom did not hold back and at his first word, the temple began to shake. Stones began to shift around us and it was not until his voice paused so that he could hang his head that they became stable at any rate. At any word from Wisdom, the temple shook and crumbled.
Apply this as you will.